


For The Love Of God.... Not In Front Of My Salad!

by EstelUndomiel (capn_cecil_ang)



Series: Destiel 'spur of inspiration' one-shots [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Crack, Dress Up, M/M, Meme, One Shot, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rough Sex, Sam really loves salads, blowjob, i feel you, i'm so sorry sam, not in front of my salad, reference, salads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:15:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23796760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/capn_cecil_ang/pseuds/EstelUndomiel
Summary: Sam Winchester is cursed. There is no other explanation. How would you otherwise explain that every time he wants to enjoy a nice bowl of salad, his brother and his angel boyfriend find a way to ruin it for him?
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Destiel 'spur of inspiration' one-shots [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1679482
Comments: 2
Kudos: 76





	For The Love Of God.... Not In Front Of My Salad!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for overwhelmingly positive comments for the previous fic.  
> I've listened to your constructive criticism, and here's my reply ;)  
> Also, I should be sleeping right now, but I couldn't get Sam's salads out of my head, so here you go :D
> 
> This is a loose sequel to [Sam Winchester Loves Salad](https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/57100264?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#comment_298297963)
> 
> Kudos and comments always very much welcomed! ❤︎

It’s a warm Tuesday afternoon, and Sam Winchester is drifting through Lebanon’s roads in Impala, windows down. Nor he, neither Dean felt like cooking today, so Sam took it on himself to go get the takeout. Sam glances at the passenger’s seat and smiles. A bag of burgers and fries lays there, but that’s not what makes corners of Sam’s mouth lift. There’s also a big sized Caesar salad lying next to fries, and Sam can’t wait to pour the herb dressing over it and dig into it, as soon as he comes back to the bunker. 

His eyes return to the road, a content smile staying on his face. He turns up the volume on the radio and lets the wind play with his marvelous hair as he sings on top of his lungs: _“Woah, we’re half-way there, Woah, livin’ on a prayer. Take my hand, we’ll make it I swear, Woah, livin’ on a prayer...”_

About half an hour later Sam walks into the bunker, arms full of takeout. He cradles his salad in his right hand, his left reserved for everything else. _Oh, I’m gonna eat you up real soon._ He muses over in his mind as he makes his way towards the kitchen. _Lemme just put you down, call over Dean, and I can dig right into ya._ A content smile returns to Sam’s face as he strolls through the bunker.

But his smile and content are short-lived as he freezes in his steps the moment he sets foot in the kitchen. There they are; his brother and their angel friend. They might be mid-conversation, or not; it doesn’t really matter. Because they are standing just a few inches from each other, right up in each other’s personal spaces. But what’s worse, they’re not doing anything. Just staring at each other. And Sam, to his pity, knows that look very well. He knows it because it’s the same look he has whenever he looks at a juicy salad. It’s a look of pure hunger. 

“My salad,” Sam lets out a small gasp, as he feels his salad rotting in its container, witnessing this atrocity. 

*****

Dean is sitting on his bed, scrutinizing the bottle of lube for the past ten minutes. He doesn’t know why, but he kept the damn thing after that day when he fucked Cas over the hood of Impala. _After all, It’s a good lube. I might need it sometimes. Would be a waste to throw it away._

The door to his room is wide open, and he hears occasional clanging of the knife or sound of the faucet. _Sam must be making a salad.... again._

Dean sighs and puts the lube on the nightstand. His eyes linger on it for a moment, and then he sees something in the corner of his eye. Jumping out and turning towards the intruder, he sighs with relief, when he sees it’s just Cas.

_Wait a minute. It’s CAS._ His brain corrects him, and tension comes back to Dean’s shoulders. 

“Cas,” Dean tries for a casual tone, “Whatcha doing here, buddy?”

Castiel frowns, the gesture so typical of him. “What do you mean, Dean? You called me.”

“No, I did not,” Dean shakes his head, feeling defiant.

“You did,” Castiel insists.

“Did not,” Dean fights back but adds more quietly. “At least not out loud.”

He narrows his eyes suspiciously at the angel and steps closer to him. “Did you read my mind, Cas?”

Castiel frowns even deeper, also narrowing eyes on Dean. “You know I don’t do that, Dean.”

“Yeah? Well, then. How come you came when I was just... you know... thinking of you.”

“Oh,” Castiel says, his eyes momentarily dropping to look away from Dean. “I... did not read your mind, Dean. But... I feel when you call me. Whether by words or not.”

“Oh,” Dean says in reply, at the loss of words. He tries to think of the reason why he accidentally called Cas when the angel outdoes him. A cheeky smirk appears on his face, and he makes a step closer to the hunter.

“Do you require my help, Dean?” he asks, voice hushed.

“A-what?” Dean gasps, not sure what’s happening right now.

Castiel says nothing; he just averts his eyes to look at the lube on the nightstand. Dean follows his gaze, and when he’s sure he read the situation right, he swallows hard.

“I uh,” he tries to say but is cut off by Castiel’s hand grabbing his crotch.

“Fuck,” Dean swears, fighting off a whimper. “Cas, you can’t just...”

Castiel leans in closer to Dean - _Too close!_ Dean’s mind screams - and whispers. “And... what are you going to do about it?”

At that moment, Dean loses it. He grabs Castiel by the neck and kisses him. Hard. Castiel seems to lose his balance momentarily as they smash into the cabinet by the wall. 

Dean breaks off the kiss, panting. “Wait,” he breathes out. “I... I was thinking. Me and Sammy. There was this case a few years ago. We went undercover and... and I had this uniform,” Dean tries to formulate logical sentences, but Castiel’s presence is so distracting. “There was this uniform. It’s hard to explain.”

Castiel’s hand steadies on his chest, and Dean stops. He looks into Castiel’s eyes, meeting with a meaningful look from the angel. 

“I can reach into your mind, Dean, if you let me. It might be easier to just show me... what you want.”

Dean swallows hard and nods. _Oh, God, yes. Please, yes._ He nods, not able to articulate his pleas. 

Castiel nods in response, looking deeply into Dean’s eyes.

Dean gets lost in Castiel’s eyes, and for a moment he feels like an eternity has passed, as he looks into the widest and bluest eyes he’s ever seen. Then Castiel nods again and disappears.

Dean steadies himself before he can fall over the cabinet. And before he can even compose a thought, Castiel reappears, accompanied by the fluttering of wings. When he materializes in front of Dean, he’s holding a bundle of white and red clothing. Dean licks his lips, staring at the clothes in Castiel’s hands. 

“Here,” Castiel says and hands him the clothes.

“Oh, no,” Dean says, suddenly feeling nervous. “I was thinking,” he swallows a lump in his throat, feeling his pants getting tight. “Could you, you know... put it on?”

Castiel tilts his head to the side, looking at Dean. “Do you want me to change my clothes into these?” he asks.

_So fucking much._ Dean nods, not able to say anything out loud. 

Castiel looks at the clothes in his hands, then back at Dean. “Close your eyes,” he commands, and Dean feels his cock twitching. _Fuck, I love it when he uses that tone._

Dean does as he’s told and closes his eyes. Though he feels like he has just blinked, because the moment he does it, Castiel tells him to open them again.

And so he complies. When Dean opens his eyes, his breath hitches in his throat. There he stands, right in front of him, the angel of the Lord. The angel, that’s dressed in tight red shorts, a white t-shirt, and he even has a red headband on his head.

Dean realizes his mouth is open, and he feels the excessive amount of saliva in it. He licks his lips, his eyes roaming around Castiel.

“Tell me what a bad student I was, teacher,” Dean says, his voice hoarse.

Sam is in the kitchen, rinsing the knives and spoons he used to make his dinner salad. His beautiful Caprese salad is chilling on the counter, waiting for Sam to grab him and take him to his room. Sam plans on putting something on Netflix and enjoying his meal. 

His life can’t be any better right now. He finally got rid of the haunting image of Dean’s freckled ass, lying on top of Castiel on the hood of Impala. That image kept him awake longer than he’s willing to admit. But it’s gone now, the only images that keep him awake now are the thoughts of possible new varieties in salads.

And so Sam takes his bowl and aims it towards his room. But as he’s walking down the bunker’s hall, he thinks he hears something, something not quite right. He thinks he hears... Castiel. _Yes, It’s definitely Cas._ His mind confirms. And he’s calling Dean’s name. But the way he’s saying it. It sounds... _urgent_. Sam thinks.

A flash of worry spreads through Sam as he marches towards Dean’s room. That’s where the sound is coming from, after all. _The door’s open._ He notices, his stomach clenching.

“DEAN!” Castiel shouts, and Sam knows there’s no time to waste.

He barges into Dean’s room, bowl in hand. And he comes to a halt when he realizes what’s really happening. All he sees is Castiel, standing next to Dean’s bed, in a white shirt and very tight red shorts. And it takes Sam a moment to notice where his brother is. Dean is kneeling in front of Castiel, his head in the angel’s crotch.

“Oh, Dean!” Castiel exclaims again, his hands grabbing Dean’s hair.

Dean lets out a loud muffled moan, and Sam feels the dread of restless nights creeping on him again. He opens his mouth and lets out a quiet whimper: “For the love of God... not in front of my salad.”

Castiel thinks he heard a door slamming behind him, but he’s too distracted by Dean’s mouth on his cock, licking and sucking him. The ecstasy is building up in him with every second, and he knows he won’t last long.

“Dean, I’m close,” he shouts a warning, fully expecting Dean to pull away. 

But when he looks down, his eyes half-closed, he sees emerald eyes peeking at him with a mischievous spark in them.

Dean pulls away just enough to lick the tip of Castiel’s cock, his hands grabbing him firmly by his ass. Then Dean takes him again, as deep as he can.

“Fuck, Dean!” Castiel shouts, his hands gripping Dean’s hair tight. The pressure is too much, and he feels himself coming, filling Dean’s mouth with his cum. 

The feeling is too much for Castiel, and he feels his knees giving in. If Dean wasn’t holding him firmly, he’d be on the ground already. But Dean’s steadying him, making sure to suck every last drop of him. 

When he’s finished, Dean pulls away with a loud pop, and before Castiel can react, Dean’s mouth crashes with his.

Once again this evening, Castiel finds himself backing up into the cabinet in Dean’s room, the handles poking him in the back. But he doesn’t mind. Because Dean’s kissing him hungrily, and he feels himself on his lips. And then Dean’s turning him around and mumbling something about his sweet ass. 

Castiel makes the lube appear next to him, not wanting to lose any contact with Dean.

“Fuck, you’re hot in those short,” Dean mumbles against his ear and bites down on his earlobe.

“Dean,” Castiel moans, bucking his hips backward. “Dean, fuck me.”

And Dean doesn’t need to be told twice. He pulls down Cas’ shorts, leaving his bare ass dangling in the air. 

Castiel moans quietly, looking forward to the feeling of Dean’s rock hard cock in his ass. He hears a pop of lube, and then there’s a finger at his entrance.

“Yes,” Castiel breathes out, throwing his head back. 

Dean meets Cas in a kiss as he slides his finger inside him. Cas moans into the kiss, bucking his hips to meet Dean’s finger.

“Shit, Cas,” Dean moans in between kisses, fingering Cas fast.

“Another,” Cas begs, and he can feel Dean smiling against his neck as he grazes it with his teeth.

“I’m gonna mark you, Cas,” Dean says, almost growling into Cas’ ear. “So everyone knows you’re mine.” As he finishes, he slides two fingers inside Castiel, scissoring them.

“Yes, Dean, yes,” Castiel chants. “Yours.” he thrusts back into Dean’s fingers and moans loudly when they meet his prostate.

“Fuck, Cas, you’re gonna give me a heart attack one day,” Dean mumbles, nuzzling his earlobe.

“Need you,” Cas sighs out. “Now, Dean. Please.”

“All right,” Dean replies, pulling out his fingers. Cas is glad this time it doesn’t take Dean so long to get the lube on his cock. Because he’s not sure how long he’d be able to be without Dean’s contact.

When Dean’s ready, he steadies Castiel with one hand on his hip and slides into him carefully. Castiel feels Dean’s cock filling him up, and he wants to take it; he wants to take him all. 

“Dean,” he breathes out. 

“I’m here, Cas,” Dean whispers into his ear as he slides inside him completely. Then he pulls back and repeats the motion. Castiel groans when on the third time Dean hits his prostate again and begs: “Faster Dean, harder.”

He can hear a soft moan escape Dean’s mouth as he says those words, and he smiles to himself. But before he can think about anything else, Dean puts one hand on his shoulder, the other on his hip, and speeds up his rhythm. 

Castiel can’t speak anymore, just moan and sigh as Dean slams into him, hard and fast. The cabinet is tilting forward, smashing into the wall when pushed back. And nor Castiel, neither Dean care who can hear them and see them, as they ride together into the desired peak. 

Dean’s hand on Castiel’s shoulder grips him tighter, and the one on his hip wraps around his torso, as Dean moans into Castiel’s ear. “Cas, I’m coming.” 

And as Dean says it, his thrusts become more erratic. And then Castiel feels the warm liquid filling him up, a mark that he is Dean’s, and no-one else’s.

*****

It’s two weeks later, and Sam Winchester feels like he has lost his will to live. He’s sitting in his room, finishing his Greek salad. Except, you can’t really call it a Greek salad, because there are no juicy tomatoes in it. 

Sam tried, he really tried to get that haunting image out of his mind. But soon he realized that it won’t be so easy. It appeared not only every time he closed his eyes but also every time he saw a tomato. Every time he wanted to add tomato into his salad, he took it in his hands, rinsed it, and went to cut it. But as he was looking at that small juicy piece of vegetable, all he could see was Castiel’s ass. Castiel’s ass in very tight red shorts, and fragments of Dean kneeling in front of him, face in his crotch.

Sam groans and rubs his face aggressively. _No! I won’t let them ruin salads for me._ He decides.

He stands up from the table and grabs the half-empty bowl. There’s plenty of salad in the kitchen still, just waiting on the counter to be finished. _I am Sam Winchester. I am not going to let my brother and his boyfriend bully me into eating my salads without tomatoes._

He marches forward, making his way through the bunker’s halls. The look on his face is determined. Every supernatural creature would fear him if they saw him now, a look of utter dedication seeping through him.

And then he nears the kitchen area, and he notices a trench coat lying on the ground. _No,_ Sam recoils momentarily. _Not in the kitchen!_ He moves forward, still determined to save the rest of his salad. A few steps further, there’s a blue tie, hanging over one of the bookcases. Sam’s heart starts to beat faster, his breathing getting shallower. _Please, not in front of my salad._ He begs silently as he makes a few more steps towards the kitchen. 

Right in front of the room, there’s a white shirt lying on the ground, and Sam’s heart clenches with horror. His worst nightmares are fulfilled when he pokes his head into the kitchen and sees his brother and his boyfriend. 

Castiel is leaning with his back against the counter, half-naked. His left hand is gripping the filling of a pie, lying next to him on the counter. His chest is covered in purple sticky mass and crumbs, and Dean is licking it all off him. Castiel’s right hand is in Dean’s hair, stroking it gently as the hunter is cleaning him off of the mess Sam’s sure he made. And then Sam’s eyes land on the far end table and they fill with tears. It’s there, in the middle of the table. The rest of his salad cursed to watch this demonstration of filth.

*****

Sam, Dean, and Cas are all sitting in the bunker’s library, piles of books around them. They’re doing research on the new case, which turned out to be a harder nut to crack than they first thought. Sam is sitting next to Cas, and as he’s reading, he’s also eating his pasta salad. He learned to overcome his disgust with tomatoes, but he’s still easing back into it, trying to add them into his salads only once in a while. 

Dean’s sitting opposite of them, and in the last half an hour, he was very vocal about how this research session is crap. 

_It isn’t bringing anything new. We already know everything that is in these books._ Sam can hear Dean’s voice inside his head, and he rolls his eyes internally. He turns the page of the book he’s reading and forks a mouthful of salad, bringing it to his mouth. But then Cas jerks beside him and pulls back in his chair. Sam pricks up and lifts his head, his eyes flinching from Cas to Dean. His fork is still on the half-way to his mouth, when his eyes meet with Dean’s. And when Dean sends him one of his cocky grins, Sam immediately understands what’s happening under the table. 

Sam throws his fork back into the bowl, sending Dean his trademarked bitch face look. Then he stands up and collects his salad and the book he is reading. As Sam Winchester leaves his brother to fondle his boyfriend under the table, he huffs over his shoulder: “I hope you’ll get a foot cramp, Dean.” 


End file.
